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Forceps delivery, episiotomy, the works
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Posted 01 March 2012 - 03:51 PM
I am a home birth supporter, and I believe women should have the right to breastfeed, and have plenty of support. However, my birth experience is one where I - or my child - would have died if at home. And I hated breastfeeding so much I stopped it. This is a long post.
In my records, it says I had spontaneous onset of accelerated labour, first stage 8:15 hours, second 1:37, third 0.04.
It's the last bit that is startling. In this case they don't mean delivery of the placenta (which is what I was always taught the third stage was - I asked about this in the documentation later but was told it was not. Weird). The delivery of the placenta took a very, very long time, comparatively, because I was blacking out and couldn't push. They mean that the baby was born after transition in four seconds.
And then there was:
Labour complications: Posterior presentation, abnormal CTG, Primary Post Partum Haemorrhage of a litre of blood, Forceps delivery, episiotomy, technical second degree tearing (however tearing occurred in multiple areas around sphincters).
The surgeon got the head surgeon in the hospital once the placenta was delivered and he had a look, and then left the delivery room to get an expert to do the repairs. It took them an hour and forty five minutes to stitch me back up. I had the baby (her nickname during pregnancy) almost all the time to hold but I had no strength to hold her. I vomited on her, to be honest, and while she was trying to nurse, I couldn't do a thing but lie there while people kept her balanced on me. I kept blacking out. I wanted someone to take the baby away in case I dropped her, and because she was flailing and stank of my blood. I didn't want anything except for it to all stop.
My partner showed me a photo of me and the baby after they had cleaned her up (she was boiling hot when they put her on me, covered in red, and smelled like fresh, raw meat). I am completely white, eyes closed, in an oxygen mask, with a conscious baby, without me moving. It's a startling photo, even though I remember what happened to me.
I remember the whole birth very clearly - I remember going into labour at immediate full force when my waters broke by surprise at home, with contractions that had a total downtime of thirty seconds apart. We were told early on to come into hospital, and I had to crouch up in the back of the car, unable to sit.
It was far too much for me - I managed to stay in the birthing center for five hours, but could tell something was not right. The pain was causing vomiting, it was shocking, far worse than any broken bone I had ever had. My body was doing all the right things, but the baby wasn't really going anywhere, and at that point we didn't know that she was far too big for me. She was positioned badly, and I was in too much pain, and nothing relieved it. They tried gas, a hot bath, everything, but I had no break between contractions, as is supposed to happen in labour, and I couldn't really function. I was dialating at more than a centimeter an hour, which was good, but none of the hormones that help you deal with pain had time to affect me.
We got moved to the delivery suite because I had become convinced I was in real trouble - I got an epidural, which meant I could relax for a bit. My partner went to sleep for a little because he knew I was safe. I remember thinking 'This epidural is the best thing in the world, I will never regret it, ever'. I can't remember feeling any pain from getting it whatsoever - they did give me needles, but the labour was so excruciating that I didn't feel the cannula or the dilation check. I felt nothing but unrelenting, pounding agony until the epidural took effect.
A little while later the baby went into distress. The labour was too intense - the gap gives the babies time to rest as well, and she wasn't getting it. Her heartbeat was starting to drop because she was running out of energy. Even if I couldn't really feel the contractions, they had become constant, with no gap, and my body was getting worn out too. Then they lost her heartbeat and I became panicked. My heartrate hit so high that it mimicked hers, and they could no longer tell the difference between either of us on the monitors.
The doctor there was young and nice but did not understand how to give information - he kept saying 'We've lost the fetal heartbeat' and shaking his head, which was terrible. I thought she must have died, and everytime the midwife hissed at him and said 'But we still can tell the baby is alive!' he would shrug. She tried to reassure me but I thought everyone including my partner was just lying to me to keep me from despairing. They ended up putting a clip on the baby which showed that she was still alive, but not doing well. She couldn't really go anywhere, everything was ready for her to come out but for some reason she couldn't move. I was fairly bad by this point, with a consistent heart rate of about 155.
They explained she had to come out, I was frantically agreeing. They explained they would have to do all the things I had gone to the birth center to avoid - more intervention, forceps, episiotomy to avoid a bad tear, I really didn't care. I agreed to absolutely everything. They said if I couldn't get her out in three pushes, it would be an emergency Cesar right then and there. They did all the intervention. She came out very fast. I tore very badly anyway, intramuscular.
The baby was unimpressed with the world - she screamed like hell, which was so reassuring. She screamed so much she never had a chance to be purple, she was pink right from the start. I started to lose a lot of blood. They gave her to me, with my partner there talking to me (he was trying to be really reassuring and had held my hand the entire time), but I wasn't very conscious by that point. I was vaguely aware that the 'something is wrong' feeling hadn't gone away. There was blood everywhere. I knew at least it was mine and not hers.
One of the nurses said something like: "What a big boy!"
My partner said "She's a girl!" in surprise.
I had an oxygen mask on, and a mouthpiece for nitrous, and so forth, but I couldn't control myself and was soon vomiting. It took a while to get the placenta out because I couldn't push effectively and was too tired - the epidural was perfectly placed in that I could even move my legs, it was just that I had lost too much blood to be able to function. Once they stopped the blood loss, I fell asleep on the table for a while. They were still stitching me.
Eventually I found myself in the delivery ward with my partner and the baby, surprised to be alive, with her.
The next few days were pretty bad, to be honest - they had to put a lot of blood into me, and I was in an incredible amount of pain, especially at night. It was so shocking I sometimes fainted. I had various painkillers, but they didn't really do much at first, and I couldn't feed the baby properly. She would latch on and chew, but her latch was perfect - she knew what she was doing! It turned out my body was in too much shock to produce very much, so she wasn't really getting anything. So she would start chewing, which was very painful and which raised blisters. I developed a panicky dislike of midwives who would say that unless I was bleeding quite a bit I 'had to' keep breast feeding. I was in so much pain that this as well was utterly demoralising. I felt like I couldn't cope. They were quite disappointed in me. I had not even had a Cesarian and I was acting like this.
They had to do a number of tests, but I started to just lie there. I let them do whatever they wanted. I no longer cared or had the energy to ask questions. They stuck things in, pulled them out, and I did not bother to find out what they were doing by the end. Whatever. My arms became utterly covered in bruises. All of me felt ruined.
My partner took such good care of me they sent me home only four days later. I wasn't really ready to go, but I could no longer cope with being told off for not changing the baby in the middle of the night by nurses who had not read my file - I couldn't get in and out of bed by myself, and couldn't lift her. Some of them would get quite aggressive about it, and I was unable to cope with their disappointment in me and the pain I was in while breastfeeding. I was listening to other women who had Cesarians being given stronger pain medications, and felt desperately jealous of them. Even though I could barely walk, I didn't want to stay in hospital unless it was with a very supportive group. Everyone seemed rather disappointed in me.
It was also a bit rough at home with the horrific pain, and lack of appetite. I stopped eating. At first, I think the issue was honestlyjust lack of blood - I had very low haemoglobin, and while they needed to take blood samples, even the best phlebotomist they had gave up. My veins were slack and invisible, and they tried five times, jabbing me in different areas, but they could barely get me to bleed at all.
Gradually, breastfeeding became one of the worst things in my day. It was less a matter of disliking one aspect of it - though if I had to pick that part it would be the pain - but more hating so many things about it that I began to dread it. Any time the baby slept through a feed I rejoiced silently, and while I did not try to make her go without feeds, I wished I had the option. I hated the sensation, the pain, the hormonal surge that made me weep, the resentfulness, the exhaustion, the being awake multiple times a night, the having only an hour or so's sleep a day, the way my appetite had ceased, the way the baby had no interest in me for anything but milk but would watch or smile at my partner, the feeling of distance between her and me, the time, the being unable to do anything or go anywhere, the god awful time spent stuck there, the constant washing of clothes and sheets, the sheer agony of swollen breasts, the fact I still could not sleep because I only sleep on my front naturally, the surprisingly horrible itching pain of let down, constant pumping to get supply up, not being able to enjoy my recreation since it affects breastmilk adversely and is too dangerous to do while breastfeeding.
Physically the agony was shocking, on top of the other pain I was in. I was still on codeine and a few other drugs for the damage, and often I was unable to sit down, I could lie there while she fed, but blisters were being raised. My pelvic girdle made grinding noises when I walked, and I began to have back spasms. When they happened, I had to put the baby on the floor and lie next to her while she shrieked, as I could no longer stand. When near me, the baby would roll her head frantically to get to latch on - there was no feeling of connection. I dreaded being near her in turn - the moment feeding stopped, I could not wait to hand her to someone else, to get away from her as fast as possible. I told a lactation consultant about this, they checked her latch.
She latched perfectly, I was told. Just as I had been in the hospital. I was told to harden up - the blisters were tiny (and they were, pinhead sized, with only a little blood) - and that breastfeeding was the best thing for my child. Of course I wanted the best thing for her, didn't I? And that was breast feeding. They said she was very hungry - she was a very large baby and I am a small person and I would eventually create enough milk if I kept putting her to the breast. I wasn't putting her needs first, and her needs had to come first. And it was so important for bonding, breast feeding, and her immune system, and I did need to do the best thing for her.
I began to realise that the best thing for her given how much I hated being near her would be adoption, or perhaps she could stay with my partner and I could leave because I had ruined his life. Of course, horrible though the idea was, if maybe she died of SIDs then I could stop suffering so much, and maybe I would not have destroyed his life? But the idea was really horrible, given that she was such an innocent little thing, so maybe I should die instead. I spent most of each day crying, and when I was not crying, I was trying frantically to tell myself that it would only be ten or so years, right, of hell? I could get through ten years of being an utter shut in. Or maybe five years. Or maybe fifteen. No, it seemed too long, maybe I could kill myself, or something. I couldn't nap during the day - I have never been good at napping and my life was nothing. I wasn't sleeping for more than an hour or so at night, and I could barely stand up from exhaustion and pain. It didn't seem like suicide, it seemed like a chance to get peace. Besides, now she cried endlessly, it seemed, and I'd stand there and watch her cry and feel nothing but a desire to be away.
I kept seeing the birth in my head, her being handed to me, and me not wanting her, hearing midwives telling me I was silly for asking about a Cesar given her positioning, being told that breastfeeding didn't hurt if you had a proper latch. I had nightmares. I wasn't trying hard enough to do anything properly, and I realised that to do what I needed to to breastfeed, to bond, was beyond me. I accepted this because I had realised that dying would not be so bad and that it was actually an option.
In the end, my partner, desperately went and purchased formula. The chemist asked him why, and when he explained, she told him I was doing something terribly wrong and must breastfeed no matter what. He, being frantic by this point, asked to speak to her manager, who told her off.
I got to sleep that night, because he fed her formula. The next day was not quite so bad. I just hated the hours instead of thinking about killing either of us. We worked out that if I had a night of interrupted sleep, I had severe depression the next day. I tried expressing for a while, which was less painful, but then it lead to terribly engorged breasts the next morning and pain and more pain and more pain and my life became again nothing but pain and wanting to escape somehow, anyway possible.
Eventually I agreed to see a doctor, though I was horribly embarassed about it since it was not like I wasn't just whining about it all - the midwives had certainly given me the impression I was. The doctor talked to me about post natal depression and the symptoms. The doctor examined the stitches after I asked for them to be checked and said the tear was at least third and more likely fourth degree since my intestines had apparently been visible - my partner admitted that later, as he had not wanted to tell me earlier. I had ridged scarring now, and constant perineal pain - I had no desire to have sex ever again - and the risk of pregnancy is terrifying. The hospital still considers it a minor tear, apparently, because it did not tear through the rectum, but rather around on both sides and continuing up. The doctor asked if I was breast feeding, and I said that by that point we were doing formula and EBM. She asked me to stop, and prescribed anti-depressants.
Since then I've had a tentative diagnosis of PTSD rather than PND, I am responding incredibly well to the anti-depressants - the sudden change in just two weeks has been astonishing to me. And my life has become bright again since stopping breast feeding. I no longer hate having to be near my child. There was some guilt over the breast feeding thing, but I now like picking her up. I really could physically have kept going - I could have taken different anti-depressants, done research, and powered through. So although my supply had had issues, and though I was taking prescription drugs, I do not like to say 'I could not breastfeed'. I could have. I chose not to, in the end, because of how much I hated every single damn second of it - the decision was about me, not her. And I went in intending to do it for two years. I am happy enough to own that, to say that yes, in this, I have been selfish. I don't even really care about being judged for it - I have the same emotional response to that as I did to the tests in hospital - people do things to you, and you just watch.
I went back later to the 'graduation class' of our postnatal classes. The midwife leading it asked if I'd do anything differently. I said "Yes, have a Cesar."
She said "Oh, surely you don't mean that. Aren't you proud of what you did? Cesars take so long to recover from."
"No. A Cesar takes six weeks. I have sixteen before I can lift anything. I'm full of scarring. I'm not proud. I wish I'd had a Cesar. I hated the birth."
And she said "Oh, you don't mean that. If you come back we can help you to see it as the positive thing it was."
But I do mean it, and I am not going back there. Still, in the last week or so, I've enjoyed being around my baby, and even started smiling at her, holding her, enjoying playing with her. I like being near her, finally.
Posted 01 March 2012 - 04:01 PM
Oh you poor thing.
I am a very vocal proponent of natural birth, breastfeeding etc (in optimal circumstances), but honestly, what you went through was just traumatic and none of it was your fault.
I had a traumatic first birth as well and I think that I had PTSD causing a lack of bonding with baby (now a 9yo). Unfortunately much more common than we perhaps realise. I also had postnatal anxiety after the birth of my second child and I firmly believe that a mother's mental health trumps everything else.
Take care of yourself xx
Edited by RealityBites, 01 March 2012 - 04:02 PM.
Posted 01 March 2012 - 04:05 PM
OP I'm so, so sorry you've had such an horrific experience. I am glad however that you are getting support and are starting the road to healing - physically & emotionally. I hope that you are having time to enjoy your baby girl. Sending you a big, big hug
Posted 01 March 2012 - 04:07 PM
Wow, wow is all I can say. I feel horrified just reading what you went though. I hope that if you ever have another child you have a much easier time of the birth and aftercare. And to be perfectly honest I would seriously think about a complaint about the after-care you had at the hospital.
I am glad that you are enjoying your baby now
Posted 01 March 2012 - 04:09 PM
What a horrible experience. I'm so sorry. I too had a forceps delivery and episiotomy, and had a third degree tear. It was not nearly as traumatic as your experience, but nonetheless I really sympathise - the physical and emotional recovery is not easy. I'm glad you're finding a way to enjoy and bond with your beautiful girl.
Posted 01 March 2012 - 04:19 PM
oh my goodness, that sounds so dreadful. I'm so sorry that was your experience.
I had a great birth but I totally hear you on the breastfeeding. I also found it extremely painful and as a result I dreaded feeding which I think was damaging to my relationship with DD. Like your partner mine cracked one day after a few weeks and went and got some formula. I'm so glad. I wouldn't have given myself permission to do it but almost immediately I started to enjoy my baby and bond with her.
Yep breastfeeding is best if it works. If it doesn't work don't feel any guilt for choosing formula. There are many factors that influence a child's wellbeing and how it is fed is just one. A happy, healthy mum and a harmonious home trumped breastfeeding for me. My 2 year old is now an exceptionally bright, happy child and I am so glad she is in my life. It's not always easy but she makes every day better and brighter.
So glad things are improving for you! Be kind to yourself and take each day as it comes. You sound like you are doing a brilliant job.
Posted 01 March 2012 - 04:20 PM
You poor, poor thing . That is awful, please don't feel guilty. Congrats on getting through that. I am not sure just anyone could.
Posted 01 March 2012 - 04:22 PM
Thank you for bravely sharing your story and for your honesty. There are elements of your story that are similar to mine and I think there is much that can be gained by others by reading your story.
It seems along the way no one was listening to you and that is sad to read. I was lucky in that I had a great GP and community health nurse who all listened to my misery and didn't dismiss it or guilt me in to breastfeeding for longer etc (and possibly putting my baby's health at risk by my hands in the process). Breast is usually best, but not always is something I have learned.
Thank you again for having the courage to share your story. I'm so glad that you are now enjoying your time with your DD.
Posted 01 March 2012 - 04:28 PM
I'm sorry you had such a terrible birth experience, OP, and that there was a lack of support from some people in the aftermath. I hope you are recovering well and enjoying your baby girl more and more each day. It sounds like you have a very supportive partner, and an understanding GP.
If you do decide to have more children you will be able to make an informed decision about how you want to deliver, and I hope you can stand up to the pressure of people who will try to change your mind. Good luck.
Posted 01 March 2012 - 04:32 PM
Oh shame, you poor thing, what an awful time you had! I had a bad first birth (not nearly as horrific as yours), with failed ventouse, forceps, blood loss and transfusion, 3rd degree tearing (that has caused some longer term issues) and struggled to breastfeed. I really wanted to breastfeed but also introduced formula early - I think when your body is just broken it struggles to make milk. Going onto formula certainly helped my son start to thrive, it took a month to regain birthweight, and made things better for the both of us. Anyway, it was an awful experience and the midwives were awful at hospital (UK though) and I couldn't wait to leave. The whole experience left me reeling and recover took ages!
Fast forward 3 and a half years and I've just had a 2nd child at Flinders Hospital (Public) in Adelaide. My experience couldn't have been more different. I had an elective c-section given the traumatic first birth. Midwives were amazing. They'd take the baby at night so I could get a 3/4 hr block of sleep. The were so supportive with helping breastfeeding. We pumped a bit at the hospital as well. They have a postnatal breastfeeding service that you can book once out (I've been twice, it's one on one) I can't tell you how much nicer the c-section was in comparison to the bad natural birth experience. Worlds apart. The attitude of midwives was incredible and they were so helpful and supportive. I was more grateful to them than they will ever know (I did send a card thanking them but words will never be enough after my awful first experience). I'm now 3 weeks post birth - my recovery has been wonderful and so much quicker - I will forever be grateful of this planned c-section. And of course to the wonderful midwives at Flinders. If you do find yourself pregnant again, take heart, next time could be entirely different. And I would thoroughly recommend a c-section given my own experience. I do realise everything has its risks - but wow my 2 births have been chalk and cheese and so has my recovery!
Take care of yourself, I hope you're feeling normal again very soon. x
Posted 01 March 2012 - 04:35 PM
I'm so sorry. You should be proud of yourself for getting through that nightmare in the best way you could, and seeking help, and being on the road to recovery in the way you are- You are an inspiration. Thank you for sharing your story. May you continue to recover and find some peace, all my best.
Posted 01 March 2012 - 07:11 PM
OP, wow, I'm just horrified at what you went through. I'm so, so sorry that your birth experience was so ghastly and it just boggles my mind to be honest. But you've done a wonderful thing in getting help and AD's and starting the road to recovery. Good on you, OP. You're a survivor.
Posted 01 March 2012 - 07:36 PM
All I can say that it is shameful they made you feel like you were 'disappointing them" since you 'didn't even have ceasar" cause having had ceasar, I only ever took Panadol for pain and was fully mobile the next morning.
I wish you a physical and emotional recovery, well done for carrying the baby to term, giving birth to her and keeping that little human alive. What an achievement.
Posted 01 March 2012 - 08:01 PM
Goldenblack: I am so sorry for what you have gone through. You shouldn't have been treated that way.
I have a forceps delivery due to a blood pressure spike from pre-eclampsia, and didn't have an episiotomy at my request. My daughter was in the right position for delivery and avoid a Caesarean. I sustained 4th degree tearing and a fistula between my vagina and bowel. I was "lucky' because my anal sphincter only partly tore. I required an hour of stitching in theatre and almost needed a blood transfusion.
I received a spinal block on top of my epidural for the stitching and had morphine added to the mixture to give me a high level of pain relief. I was constantly offerred pain relief over the following days, and it was not just panadol.
I tried to breastfeed but gave my daughter formula after 2 days and didn't look back. She wasn't interested in my breasts from the start, and my milk didn't come in until I'd been home for 2 days. Even then she wasn't interested. I received some pressure from the midwives to breastfeed my daughter but was prepared for the pressure because my sister-in-law had warned me after the pressure she received after my two nieces were born. My husband and I presented a united front to the midwives about formula and they eventually backed off. You are entitled to feed your baby in the best way for you, not what they want. I'm surprised you persisted as long as you did. I wouldn't have had the strength to.
Did the hospital refer you to a continence nurse to check how you are healing from your tear? I received a few follow up phones call from my public hospital but thankfully had no issues. I have healed almost perfectly and am so grateful for that. When I was warned of the complications of a tear I was horrified at the list of things. I can't imagine having the complications that you have.
I have been told that I will be offered a Caesar for my next birth due to the extent of my tearing. If you ever do decide to have another child then perhaps that could be discussed as an option for you. Also, some women need to have their episiotomy scars redone in theatre to provide a better result if they have healed badly. Has your doctor discussed that with you and referred you to a gynaecologist?
I'm glad that you sought help and have received it, and can now enjoy your daughter. An organisation called PANDA (Post and Antenatal Depression Association Inc.) might be a good place to start to help you deal with your PTSD:
I hope that you continue to enjoy your daughter, and heal in whatever way you can.
ETA Posted before I was finished typing and to fix spelling.
Edited by Paddlepop, 01 March 2012 - 10:41 PM.
Posted 01 March 2012 - 08:21 PM
oh my god.
I have no other words than that.
I am speechless after reading that. I am so sorry
Posted 02 March 2012 - 01:13 PM
Oh no! I remember your post a while ago asking about birth and I was hoping it had been a really positive experience!
It sounds truly, truly awful, those first few months of your childs life must have been hell! I hate the fact that when I remember my twins as newborns I feel awful, the first 8 weeks of their life, before medical professionals finally convinced me to give up breastfeeding, were absolutely, gut wrenchingly bad!
I'm so glad you've gotten to a doctor and are being treated for PTSD.
Good luck with it, it does get better eventually!
Posted 02 March 2012 - 01:20 PM
You were treated so badly, I'm so sorry.
Obviously not every delivery goes to plan, but the way you were ignored and belittled post partum is just shameful.
I hope you and your relationship with your baby continue to improve with each day. It sounds like you have a good GP, take advantage and get a plan for some counselling if you're not already.
It's just awful to imagine what you've gone through.
Posted 03 March 2012 - 11:03 AM
Op, I am so sorry that your experience of childbirth and breastfeeding was so traumatic for you.
I had PTSD and PND after birth of DS1. The way you describe your experience was very much the way I would have described mine in the early days. My perception of what happened to me; the pain, the lack of support, the trauma of forceps delivery and tearing, the agony of breastfeeding, were all part of a prolonged trauma.
I had a wonderful psychologist who I saw for three years. Let's just say, I probably spent enough money to buy her a new car but she worked damn hard for that money. poor thing!
Long story, cut short, my psychologist encouraged me to have another child. She believed it wouyld be the only way for me to move forward, to heal. At first, I could not imagine this. I was adamant that I would NEVER go through that again, that I was a failure and that I was weak because I didn't do it as well as everyone else.
Anyway, we did go on to have another little boy. This experience, although still not the 'perfect' natural born mother experience was so different and really did heal me psychologically. I have 2 beautiful children and I am really happy and doing really well.
OP, you will heal. If I can, believe me, anyone can. Be kind to yourself. Nurture yourself. It will take time.
Please PM me if you want to talk further.
Posted 03 March 2012 - 11:18 AM
Thats such a terrible story, I'm not surprised you have PTSD. I'm sorry your birth was not only not what you wanted, but a horrific traumatising experience.
I'm so pleased you are seeing someone about your mental health, and that your partner is so supportive.
I'm also really pleased you are starting to enjoy your baby now.
Please take care of yourself, don't beat yourself up about the things that were not working, like BF. You have found a way that allows you to love your baby. Be proud of that.
Posted 03 May 2012 - 03:17 PM
Your story made me so sad. I could've written that 3.5 years ago. I also can not beleive how badly they treated you. My midwives were a bit like that too, but I had one good one who made all the difference. Even your breastfeeding journey sounded familiar to me. I look back now and know that there are worse things I could have done than formula feed my baby. It didn't affect her at all, despite me having it in my head that she wouldn't grow properly.
I am so sorry that this has happened to you. You are so brave for speaking out and getting help, this is the best thing you can do for your baby, above everything else.
It took antidepressants, a psychologist and an alternative therapist (who I still see) for me to get better. Get all the help you need, you will get there.
Posted 13 July 2012 - 05:44 PM
I can relate-my first was like that
I was not as ill as you after (but I did end up so constipated that it was backed up to my stomach :/ as I couldn't open my bowels as I had a tear, ended up getting two hospital enemas etc to get it moving, had a nasty UTI etc). It took ages for my pelvic floor to stop hurting. I remember staring at Amelia while I ate something in the birth suite thinking wtf just happened and feeling disconnected.
She was a baby who never stopped crying and I got PND as well. I breast fed once I was home only because my dear mum was there helping me attach Amelia as I too had loads of trouble!
Thankfully the births of my boys were much better (even though they both went straight to the resus table )
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To celebrate the release of Love Child Season 2 on DVD from July 9, Essential Baby and Universal Sony Pictures Home Entertainment are giving away Love Child Season 1 & 2 on DVD to 13 lucky winners.
Get your free ticket to the Sydney Essential Baby & Toddler Show for September 25-27 - register online now.
Top 5 Articles
I believe that you get out of families what you put into them, and I will give mine my all.
I have had two postnatal psychotic episodes. The first when my eldest child was six weeks old, and another after my second child was born.
French names are always in fashion, but a few have risen in popularity in recent years.
A British woman who gave birth in Spain has told of her ordeal after spending weeks trying to convince medics the baby girl was hers.
Some friends of ours say that it's dangerous to have a dog around a newborn and that we should start looking for a new home for him. Is it?
First Apple and Facebook announced they would pay $20,000 towards the cost of their female employees freezing their eggs, now IBM in the US has come up with an innovative new policy aimed at retaining female employees.
The Duke of Cambridge opened up about family life and his plans for the future in an interview to mark his first day as an air ambulance pilot.
A simple photo taken in front of an evening fire gave new mother Sarah Bowers the power to save her baby's life.
Of all the advice people told me before having a baby, no one warned me about the amount of decisions involved.
Parents of toddlers all know the moment when realise your child is being suspiciously quiet. It can only mean one thing - trouble!
If you have trouble recalling the ages of Jeremy Ryan's seven children on The Voice, you're not alone. So does he.
Getting glasses can be a formative moment in a person's life.
When a mum of six was caught shoplifting nappies, clothes and shoes for her kids, the last thing she expected was for a stranger to pay for her haul.
The risk of having uncontrolled depression is far greater than the small increased risk of birth defects that may be associated with specific antidepressants.
Police have raided properties and arrested a number of people over a brawl at a child's birthday party at a play centre in Sydney's west.
Looking for a creative way to share some big news? Look to the skies, like this family did.
Little Owen DiCandilo's name means "young warrior", and it's a description that perfectly fits the inspiring 18-month-old
The exhaustion that comes with caring for young children often means romance between parents becomes a thing of the past.
I've been fat for pretty much most of life, besides a few crazy moments of being less-fat, but for the most part I've existed on this earth with a little more meat on my bones than desirable.
Since the dawn of civilisation, generation after generation of new parents have had to rely on instinct, trial and error - and sometimes get it wrong.
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